


All Of The Roses

by frenchforbird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Headcanon, I'll properly tag it later, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, Self-Indulgent, Some Fluff, fuck idk, how tf does tagging even work I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:32:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchforbird/pseuds/frenchforbird
Summary: I'll add a better summary later, but this is basically what I want to happen with the lore in game in the future.Sombra is a little bit tired with Talon. She's made some friends, done some mischief... but as she learns more about what Talon has done, she decides she'd much rather be solo again- maybe with some friends, this time.





	1. Chapter 1

Sombra was not a fan of the snow. It was pretty, yes. But Sombra despised the cold biting at her cheeks and chilling her breath. Her jacket wasn’t close to enough, and she could barely feel her toes as she trudged through the snow. If she didn’t have a conscience, she would already be nice and cozy in her room at the Talon base they were currently stationed at. Unfortunately, she did have a conscience. And a crush.

“Fancy seeing you here, Miss Widow.” Sombra relished the way the woman jumped. So much for a great assassin, with all the skill and technique of the world. “What’s the occasion?”

“Sombra.” Her voice was cool and collected. “I’m… remembering what a great kill it was. That is all.” The explanation, however, was rushed and false.

“Ah, yes, yes.” Sombra bent down and read the named on the gravestone. There was a quote there, too, something in French she couldn’t understand. For a moment she let herself wonder if Widowmaker had a grave here, too. “Gérard Lacroix, the late husband himself. Aw, don’t worry, chica. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Widow spat the words, but there was a glimpse of emotion in her eyes. A glimpse of guilt, remorse… something more than the apathy or anger usually seen there. Usually, she only seemed to have those two emotions.

“You still have yourself, don’t you? Tucked away in a little back corner, just out of sight of your handler- and everyone else, too.”

“You don’t understand a thing, Sombra.”

“Emotionless killers don’t tend to leave roses on the grave of a man they killed themselves. I think I understand that quite clearly, at least.”

“I am loyal to Talon with every bone in my body!” 

“But the heart isn’t a bone, no?” Widowmaker didn’t answer, staring down at the grave. Her husband’s grave. Sombra flinched against the cold, staring Widow down. “Like I said, Amélie. Your little secret won’t leave my lips. I know a little something about regret. Not to mention- ha- doing things Talon might not approve of.”

“Don’t call me Amélie! That woman is not me, that is not my name.” Sombra raised her hands in surrender. Surprisingly, Widow’s face softened from the cold anger. “But… thank you.”

Sombra tried to suppress a smile. Another friend, perhaps? This wasn’t for business, of course, not like Katya Volskaya. An actual friend, or at least an ally. The first real ally since she left Los Muertos. In the nasty business of Talon, allies were needed. In the nasty business of life, too. “I’ll leave you to it, then?”

Widowmaker nodded. She didn’t talk much, Sombra had realized. Clipped orders on missions, short remarks and utter silence at base. Reaper seemed used to it- the two had been colleagues for many years now- but Sombra didn’t like it. She enjoyed hearing Widow talk. She enjoyed Widow in general; she tried not to think too much about that fact. 

“Wait, Sombra?”

“Hm?” She didn’t think Widow was about to ask her to stay, but her heart leapt into her throat anyways.

“Take my scarf. It’s cold. I don’t even feel it, and… here.” She held out her scarf to Sombra. Sombra only hesitated a moment before accepting it, looping the black fabric around her neck. “I’ll tell you this, Sombra. I still love him. It’s the one thing I won’t let them take from me.”

“I won’t let them take it, either. You have my word.”

As Sombra began her walk back to the base, she decided she didn’t mind the cold that much- not if she had her new friend’s scarf around her neck, the woman’s perfume a bit thick in the air. Having a conscience wasn’t so bad.

***

Sombra stashed the scarf under her jacket before anyone at the Talon base could see. No one would really like a sign o Widow showing compassion. Her handler was already due for a visit in a few days. The holidays were an emotionally tangled time, and emotions could make some dents in Talon’s tedious reprogramming. Not that it would matter, Sombra realized. The foundation was already weak. She would bet they wouldn’t have control of the assassin forever. 

The first time Sombra met Widowmaker had been a blunt shock. The way the woman acted was so mechanical, unnatural. Her mind was more of a machine than the omnics, only lacking in metal. It was surprising how Widow was able to keep her love hidden for so long. Something had happened that gave her the strength to be weak. 

“Sombra.” She nearly jumped at the sudden voice interrupting her thoughts, Reaper appearing in her vision. “I need to speak with you.”

“Alright, alright, get on with it.”

“Not here.”

Sombra couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Reaper had to be the most paranoid out of all of them. However, she understood, and gestured for him to follow her down a maze of corridors to a little storage closet. She laughed at his hesitation to enter, winking.

“No cameras, Reaper. Plus, one of my favorite computers. I’m assuming you want to ask me a favor, no? The only favors people ask me for are ones I get to use my special talents for.” She grinned, using her implants to unlock the door. A warm glow came from her screensaver- it was her own personal logo. Sometimes Sombra wondered if she was being too pretentious with it.

“You assumed correct. I need you to send a message to someone. His name is Jesse-”

“Ooo, the cowboy? Jesse McCree? Ha, that man’s a good drinker. See him at the bar sometimes, you know? I could set you two up with a nice bottle of whiskey. Best way to reconnect old friends, am I right?” Reaper didn’t answer, not amused in the slightest. “Alright, alright. No teasing for Sombra, I get it. I’ll get your message to him, express mail. What is it?”

“It’s not long.” Sombra gestured for him to continue, and he cleared his throat. “Dear Jesse, Happy Holidays. I hope your life has been well since we last spoke. Yours, and old friend.”

Sombra waited, hoping there was more. It was a shitty message to send an old friend, especially if the old friend didn’t know who was sending it. “Oh, _come on,_ Reaper. I’m not going to go through all that trouble for you to let Jesse know he has a stalker. Come on, get creative!”

“Uhm.”

“Come on, come on. What feels right?”

“My years with you at Blackwatch were some of the most enjoyable ones in my life. I’m glad to have known you, even if it ended in an undesirable way.” He paused, looking at Sombra. She waved his hand for him to continue, typing it into her computer. “You were like a son to me, and although we may never see each other again, I will be content knowing you are happy.”

“Love, Reaper?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Ha, just joking, my friend. I sent it, right to his personal phone. He’ll see it the next time he unlocks it.” Reaper nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. Sombra watched him for a moment before leaning forward. “You know… I could always send a message to that blonde soldier you like to pretend you hate.”

She barely had time to react before Reaper was right up against her, shoving her against the door. She didn’t usually get scared, but Reaper was an intimidating man. “I recommend you keep your nose out of things you don’t understand, Sombra.” He pushed her to the side, and slammed out of the small office. Sombra sighed, rubbing her neck, watching him stalk down the hallways. She hoped he would get lost. Not many people used this area of the base.

“Last time I do you a favor, then,” she muttered under her breath, closing the door and sitting down at her computer. Just because Reaper was her elder didn’t mean he had any say over what she did or didn’t stick her nose into. “Let’s see… how did Mr. Morrison get you so fired up, Reaper?”


	2. Chapter 2

His name was Anthony Fogg. He was born in London, but his father joined the army during the Omnic Crisis and his mother sent him to boarding school in Nice, France. His father was killed while serving, and at 17 Anthony was expelled from the boarding school and returned home. He was distant from his mother, lashing out in violent and unlawful acts. Talon recruited him when he was 22. He worked his way up through the ranks, cool and collected as he surpassed everyone around him. His mother had passed away three years ago. Anthony didn’t attend the funeral, but there was a receipt showing that he sent flowers. The reprogramming of Amélie Lacroix had been his greatest achievement. 

Sombra had done her research well. It was always best to have the upper hand when it came to information. Now, Anthony Fogg, who had over 35 successful reprogrammings on record, was standing in the general room of the Talon base. Sombra was reluctantly saluting, as he was a superior officer, and Widowmaker was the perfect picture of apathy and obedience. Reaper, of course, was nowhere to be seen. He despised Anthony, and Sombra had a suspicion that they had attempted to reprogram him at one point. 

“Hello, my dear Widowmaker. Are you having a good day?” Sombra took her seat again, pretending to be engrossed in her tablet as Anthony’s grating voice addressed Widow.

“We haven’t had a mission since Volskaya. I am beginning to get bored.” Under her obedience, Sombra detected stiff anger. Her primary desire was to kill; she was being prevented from that solitary goal.

“Oh, I know, I _know, _my dear. Why don’t we speak about Volskaya? I do have some questions, of course.”__

__“Actually, I’m the one to talk to when it comes to Volskaya. It was my mistake that cost us the mission,” Sombra jumped in to defend Widowmaker. Anthony Fogg raised his eyebrows, shifting his attention. He kept his arm on Widow’s elbow, having been planning on leading her into the hallway, away from listening ears. He looked like a despicable man, pretending he already knew what was going to be said. Acting like he had the upper hand._ _

__“I missed one last safeguard. Russian is a bit harder for me to read than other languages. I mistranslated and thought it was a security system for the vents. It was actually for the entrance Reaper used. It’s a maintenance entrance.” Sombra was glad she had remembered to look at the languages Anthony Fogg had learnt at his boarding school- Russian was not one of them. “And then- should have expected it- Katya had a gun in her office. I wasn’t going to risk losing that fight and letting my tech fall into her hands.”_ _

__She stared Widow’s handler down, daring him to challenge her. Challenge her knowledge. Challenge her story. Or, challenge if she really belonged with Talon. With the recent developments, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to leave, not yet. There was still more she could gain from this position. Not to mention, she definitely didn’t want to leave Widow behind, not with this man who controlled her life with the flick of a switch. Despicable._ _

__“Well, we all make mistakes.” The phrase was encouraging, but his tone wasn’t. “But, let’s try not to make this one again, sound like a plan?”_ _

__“It sounds like a plan,” Sombra repeated, barely hiding her disdain for the man. Anthony didn’t seem to notice, turning his attention back to what he had called his ‘favorite project’ in one of his communications with another member of Talon._ _

__“Oh, and pack your things. We have a mission scheduled for the three of you. You’ll leave after Widow and I are finished.” Sombra hesitated for a few moments longer than he would like, and he flicked his eyes back at her with a sharp gesture. “Go on, then.”_ _

__Sombra nodded her head, sparing Widow a glance. She didn’t want to give Anthony any reason to be suspicious of her regarding his ‘project’. She was glad to get out of that room, and began running through the recent big reports that had showed up on her radar. Despite the botched Volskaya mission, the three were the most powerful team in Talon. They didn’t have a presence in society that would give cause for caution._ _

__Sombra didn't bother to knock on Reaper’s door as she entered. She was still a little annoyed with how he had treated her a few days ago. She even had a response from the cowboy, but she wasn't going to show Reaper just yet. Reaper’s room was an eerie place. The bed was made, but there was a layer of dust on the sheets, as if no one had slept in it. In fact, the whole room looked almost untouched. His desk was a mess of paperwork, the only character present._ _

__“Reaper? I know you're still… miffed, or whatever. I'm not here to bug you, no teasing. But Anthony Fogg has a mission for us.”_ _

__She shivered as she glanced around the room. Maybe she was just talking to a wall- except she knew how well Reaper could melt into the shadows. She was only slightly startled when he appeared, from the ground up, a mass of wrongness. Mostly she was just uncomfortable with how inhuman it was._ _

__“You said Anthony is here?! Where’s Widow?” His voice was dark, and almost frantic._ _

__“Aw, was that some concern I heard? I stalled for as long as possible, but he took her off to wherever he goes to mess with her mind. We’re leaving as soon as him and Widow are ‘finished’. I managed to take any blame away from Widow for Volskaya in the time I had, don’t worry.” Sombra backpedalled out of her teasing. It was her way to cope with dangerous situations, to make the other person uncomfortable. It was obvious that Reaper had some care for Widowmaker’s wellbeing- Anthony was a dangerous man. “And before you ask, I don’t know what the mission is. Nothing big has showed up in any reports that would require our team. It’s probably just something to test my competence, after Volskaya.”_ _

__“Do I need to be worried about your competence, Sombra?” She could almost feel his glare through his mask. She turned her head away, laughing as lightly as she could._ _

__“Oh, don’t worry, Gabriel. _You_ don’t have to worry about me at all.” _ _

__“Good. Now get out.”_ _

__Sombra didn’t hesitate to bow out of the room. As much as she liked toying with Reaper, after his last reaction, she was afraid to push too far with her habits. At least he didn’t seem to mind the fact that she was definitely up to something not in Talon’s best interests. She made her way down the hallway to her own little room, giving any other Talon agents an impassive glance as she passed. Sometimes Sombra wondered how many secrets the other agents had. She could find out all of them, if she cared too, but it was too much time and she had bigger things to worry about. She knew the woman in the room next to her had a daughter being held captive by Talon. She knew the janitor on her floor was in love with the man who was going to fire her in the next few days. There was nothing much she could do with that information, however, so she didn’t seek it out, or do anything with it when she got it._ _

__Sombra locked her door behind her, stuffing her clothes into a bag. Before a mission, she always packed like she wasn’t coming back. Sometimes, the team was immediately relocated to a new base, and they didn’t have a chance to pack. Of course, the real reason was that there was a chance Sombra would have to go on the run again. She didn’t have much to her name to tote around, either. Although she would miss her nice computer, she could always build another one. She had her set of translocators in the bottom of the bag, as well as her favorite laptop. She had built that thing from the ground up. It was tailor made for her, and could be accessed remotely from her implants. Everything else in her bag were mission outfits- recon missions, surveillance, combat, infiltration… she was well stocked for almost every situation._ _

__She had just finished clearing out her desk, filled with printout reports and paperwork from missions, when someone knocked on her door. After a quick glance to make sure there was nothing incriminating still laying out, she unlocked her door. “Come in,” she called out, straightening the collar of her jacket with a sniff._ _

__Widow stood in the doorway for a moment after pushing it open, taking a deep breath. Sombra waited patiently for her to speak, knowing her sessions with Anthony weren’t easy on her state of mind. “The transport is waiting in Hangar 7. We’ll receive a debriefing onboard. Are you ready?” Sombra nodded, zipping her bag closed and slinging it over her shoulder. She tried not to let her pity be too blatant in her eyes. She knew how much she herself hated receiving pity from others. It was almost degrading._ _

__“Walk with me?”_ _

__Widow nodded automatically, as if Sombra had given an order rather than ask. She sighed when she realized this, but made no comment as she stepped into the hallway and closed her door. She didn’t bother locking it- there was nothing left there she had to hide. Widow’s scarf was tucked underneath the translocators, hidden as far out of sight as it could be. The only time Sombra would let the bag leave her sight was when they went to the mission sight. Even then, she would bring the most important things on her person and stash the bag in the meeting place. Sombra was nothing if not cautious._ _

__Reaper was already on board the transport when Widow and Sombra finally showed up. Sombra had noticed Widow was walking as slow as possible, which was why it had taken almost double the time than usual to get to the hangar. Anthony Fogg smiled as they approached, but there was disapproval in his dark eyes._ _

__“Ah, good, you’re here. This mission is a bit smaller than your others, but just as important. These files,” Anthony paused to hand the thin files to the three agents, “include all the information you need to know. This should be quick, in and out. I expect you back in three days at most. Make sense? Good.”_ _

__“Actually, I do have a question.” Sombra glanced up at Anthony over the top of her file for a moment before looking back down. “I consider myself to be very informed when it comes to current events. This man has almost no relevance. What exactly will killing him accomplish?”_ _

__“It’ll send an important message. Any more questions?” Sombra opened her mouth to press for more information, but Anthony cut her off with determination. “Perfect. I’ll see you when you return. The pilot will take you where you need to go.”_ _

__He was gone before anyone could say anything more. Sombra shared a sympathetic glance with Widow before tossing her bag down and settling in the seat next to it. It wouldn’t be that long of a flight, but it gave her plenty of time to try and figure out any connections between their target and Talon. Or, more specifically, between their target and Anthony Fogg. There was always another mystery, wasn’t there?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very sorry it's late

Sombra wasn’t supposed to be the one bleeding. The guard was aiming for Widow, for the sniper that had just taken out his boss, but Sombra had taken the bullet. Widow had taken out the guard (he was no match for her, regardless of surprise) and was now holding the hacker’s head in her lap, letting her squeeze her hand with pain.

“Reaper. We need help. Sombra got shot.” Her voice was as emotionless as ever, but there was a pang of worry in her throat. There had always been very few people Widow felt like she could trust. Until Reaper arrived, she had been in a fog of orders and obedience. Sombra, odd as she seemed, had worked out her secrets and seemed determined to keep them. Even yesterday, she place more blame than necessary on herself for Volskaya. She was trying to be a friend, even Widow could see that. And now she was bleeding out in the sniper’s arms.

“You can’t… Talon can’t know about this. I was being sloppy. They’ll… I don’t know. Kick me out. Hurt me. I do know. I read the reports and you can’t tell them I know what they’ll do to me.” Sombra cried out in pain, squeezing Widow’s hand harder than before. 

“You need medical treatment, Sombra.”

“She’ll be in worse shape if we bring her back to Talon like this.” Reaper had melted out of the shadows, per his usual. He set a comforting hand on Widow’s shoulder, but his face was unreadable under his mask. 

“What else can we do, then?”

“Give her to me. Then go back to the ship. Walk, though. I’m going to take the transport we came at the meet up spot. Tell them she caught wind of something personal and I went after her.” He scooped Sombra out of Widow’s arms. She looked reluctant to let go of Widow’s hand, but didn’t make a sound, bearing her teeth against the pain. Reaper noted the blood stained on the sniper’s legs and hands, blatant against her pale skin. Widow cringed when she saw it, heart in her throat. The sight of blood always reminded her of Gérard. “Change first. They’ll ask about the blood if you don’t.

Widow watched Reaper carry Sombra away with a frown. She had been feeling so many emotions lately, even after the reprogramming. Reaper had spent some time talking with her, as he always did, coaxing herself out of the shell Anthony stuffed her in, but her mind had truly been on Sombra. She had defended Widow, taken the blame for Volskaya. Lied about it, of course, but saved Widow from a reprimand. Everything had been changing since Sombra came into the frame. If she died… Widow wouldn’t know how to process it.

\---

Reaper wasn’t even sure if his plan would work. Sombra hadn’t stopped talking, at his request, but her voice was losing steam. She had been struggling to get through her last sentence, something about a bakery, for about five minutes now. If Angela wasn’t where the reports said she was, he was out of options. Angela Zeigler was the only one outside of Talon that he could trust. For awhile, she had been the only one who knew he was alive. She was the only one that would take care of Sombra with no questions asked. Well, she would ask some questions, but not too many. It was lucky that she was spending time in a lab that was only a short flight from the mission location. Reaper only felt a little bad for stealing the small Talon plane. It was something Sombra would do. 

After an excruciatingly long wait, Angela answered the door. He had begun to wonder if she had gone to her hotel at a reasonable time for once, instead of staying up to some ungodly hour working. She had been invited to use the technology at the lab and assist with an ongoing project at the nearby University. Talon tracked her movements tediously, as an ex member of Overwatch, and it seemed every week led her to a new location. Her tired and annoyed eyes widened as she recognized Reaper and registered the bleeding body in his arms.

Without a word, Angela urged Reaper inside, glancing about the street. The lab, although high tech, was very small, existing in a converted house on the edge of the University campus. It smelled like disinfectants, and the lights were nearly blinding in their white. Through the front room, which was merely a small break room, she pushed open the doors to where she had been working. Notes were scattered across a table, and ended up on the floor as Angela shoved them aside to make room for Sombra. 

“Set her down. This isn’t exactly the place for a medical procedure, but I think I have what I need. Gunshot wound… has the bullet been removed?” 

“It went clean through. Like a- what are they… a needle.” Sombra spoke up, her voice wavering under the pain. “So, you’re the doctor friend he told me about? I thought you’d be less Overwatch.”

It didn’t take long for Angela to bandage the injury, digging her staff out of her bags near the door and fiddling with the controls. Reaper merely watched. Back in the days of Overwatch, it had been common for him to stand in the corner of med bay, watching Angela hastily work to save the life of one Blackwatch agent or another. He’d even brought in a few who didn’t make it through the night, and the two had mourned together, sharing stories over the stale coffee from her office and deciding who would write the letter home. They never quite talked, outside of those frantic nights. Even then, it would be Angela muttering to herself in German while he watched with distant worry. A few times, Jesse had ended up in that bed, leaving the both of them more worried and tearful than should be allowed.

“She’ll be alright to leave in the morning. I’ll send her on her way, then, although she should be on strict bed rest for at least a week. I have a flight to catch- my own life, you know.” Angela collected her papers off of the floor, straightening them into a stack before sliding them into her briefcase. “Coffee?”

“I know you’re upset at me. But Gibraltar and Anubis were necessities-”

“And Numbani? Oh- and we can’t forget, it must have been absolutely necessary to send a message to Jesse.” She tugged her bloody gloves off and tossed them into the bin in the front room. “Been busy, haven’t you?”

“Angela-”

“Oh, I know. Not my place to lecture you about anything. Just thought I’d try.” He sighed at the doctor, crossing her arms. “You know, Jack misses you.”

Reaper could tell Angela regretted bringing it up the moment he saw her eyes. He knew what she was thinking, wondering why McCree came first, but it wasn’t her place to make judgement. She didn’t understand.

“I think I’ll take my leave, Doctor Zeigler.”

“Gabe, please, I haven’t seen you in so long, I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again, I promise.” She ran a hand through her hair as she followed him to the door. “At least stay for your friend-”

“She isn’t my friend.” He just wanted to stop talking, making empty apologies, pretending she could be the hero and fix everything. She couldn’t, and they both knew. “Neither are you.”

Angela didn’t protest anymore. He could see her hurt face in the window, arms crossed tightly. When his hand touched the door, she quickly left the room, turning the light off as she went. Reaper almost felt bad- but they were merely allies, not friends. And she was just another pawn of Overwatch.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys! This chapter took much longer than it should have. The next chapter probably will, too. My motivation isn't that great at the moment. At least, I have the next chapter plotted out. With the introduction of Doomfist, I am going to have to change up my original plans, so please be patient!

Widowmaker was alone on the transport as it made it’s way back to the current Talon base. The only remnants of Sombra’s… accident, was blood under the assassin’s fingernails. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, letting the soft whir of the air around the plane fill her mind. It was easy, to go blank, so soon after one of Agent Fogg’s touch-ups. Talon’s biggest mistake was letting someone from her past work with her. Reaper had been a thread she clung to, in a time when she was ready to give up. He was concrete, present, and with Sombra added to the mix? Widow felt human, sometimes. 

Sitting, alone on that plane, head tilted back as city lights flashed by, she remembered her first mission with Reaper. She’d known he was on base, locked away somewhere, being treated, but they had only met that morning. He was different than the man that had worked with her husband, in more ways than one. Revenant, was the word that came to Widow’s mind. Wraith, was what her handler told her before he walked into the room. 

After that mission, successful and silent, Widow had watched Reaper the entire way back. Five minutes before landing, before they walked back into a fortress of a base, cameras and bugs in every corner, she spoke, her voice dry.

“I remember that day. When Amélie was rescued.” She waited for a response, but there was nothing, smoke coming off of the man in curls, spilling onto the floor. “Everyone was overjoyed. She was home. Safe. It was only you who did not look at her with joy. It was something else. I wonder, do you have regrets, Reaper?”

She lost hope that he would ever answer, his mask facing straight ahead, disappointment settling onto her shoulders, her head dropping.

“No.” Reaper’s voice, so gravely and changed, nearly startled her. He faced her then, and she pretended she wasn’t uncomfortable. “You’re saying I should have killed you.”

“Gerard would have _never_ forgiven you. But Amélie?” Widow hadn’t felt so much emotion in years. The sadness, hopelessness, burned behind her eyes, in her throat. She swallowed it down, blinked it away. “You were her only hope.”

Widowmaker stood, picking up her gun, sliding the strap over her shoulder, barely swaying as the plane came to a landing. She stood at the door, waiting for it to open, tall and proud and perfect and ruined.

“Ah, well. _C’est la vie._

And then, suddenly, she opened her eyes. She wasn’t on that transport, with Reaper and Agent Fogg just outside the doors. She was on an empty one, alone in the dark, one of the few friends she’d made possibly dying, and the other with her. Widow was left to lie, to pretend, to wait until at least one of them came home. She got to play the role of the perfect weapon, uncaring of the fate of her partners, sit in her room until the next mission. It’s what she always did, what she always would do.

\---

The first thought across Sombra’s mind was that her bed was much more comfortable than she remembered. There was a dull pain on her left side, but it wasn’t enough for her to take notice of. The bed was nice, and things like cramps weren’t something to worry about. That is, until Sombra tried to roll over and the dim pain turned into a flood of agony. Her eyes flew open, coming into focus on an unfamiliar ceiling. The previous night came back to her in a blink.

Gunshot. Widowmaker, holding her. Reaper promising she could trust him. A science lab, a blonde woman, so much blood, and-

_S Y S T E M _ R E B O O T I N G_

She closed her eyes, watching the retina feed,, feeling disappointment settle. Maybe a hint of anger. Her cybernetics were programmed to automatically shutdown if accessed by an unknown entity or if her vitals were looking near fatal. Although the latter seemed more likely, who’s to say Reaper hadn’t just dumped her into the arms of the enemy. Sombra pushed herself up the sit, ignoring the pain. She began a diagnostics run, looking for any sort of manipulation. Whatever the hell had happened, she needed to get out.

“Ah, good. You aren’t in a coma.” Someone spoke, the blonde, standing in the doorway. She didn’t look or sound entirely pleased, despite her words. Sombra recognized her as the doctor from the night before.

“Your bedside manner needs a little work.” The woman nodded in agreement, setting a cup of coffee on a dresser, crossing the room and fiddling with the controls on a familiar staff. 

“I’m only doing this as a favor to… Reaper. I just need to keep you alive. How do you feel?”

“You’re Angela Zeigler.” She had run facial recognition as soon as she entered the room, but the staff confirmed it. Sombra had been asked to get info on Dr. Zeigler’s Valkyrie Technology, but none of the schematics or research was online in its entirety. 

“And you got shot. Do you feel any pain? Any pain in other parts of your body? Do you feel lightheaded? Are there spots in your vision?” She listed off a few symptoms before sitting on the foot of the bed, satisfied with her adjustments.

“Yes, but but not much. No. No, and no. Can’t your magical staff tell?” At least there was no threat of the nanobiology interfering with her cybernetics. Sombra leaned against the headboard, watching the golden stream that wrapped around her waist.

“How strong is your pain?” She didn’t move to make more adjustments. The doctor looked exhausted. Sombra wondered how late she had kept her awake.

“It’s dull. Like… I just got done with one of Reaper’s team workouts.”

“Good. I don’t want to give you too much anaesthetic,” Dr. Zeigler stood, taking her coffee, “ because it’s harder to recover from. You’ll need to be ready to leave by noon. I have a flight to catch.”

“Sorry, could you answer a few questions before disappearing off?” This woman was bonafide Overwatch. A prodigy doctor, the face of many peace organizations- and someone Reaper trusted.

“About Reaper, right? Ask him.”

“I’ll be bored, then. Might finally get some info on your technology?” It was a bluff, of course. She didn’t have the focus, not now. “Talon has been _very_ interested in your work.”

The look on the doctor’s face was… well, if looks could kill, Sombra would have more problems than a bullet wound. “Blackmail me? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, coming from someone like you.”

“Quite a ray of sunshine you are. No wonder you and Reaper are buddy-buddy.” It took Sombra approximately three seconds to realize that was entirely the wrong thing to say.

“As he has made very clear, we are not even close to friends.” Dr. Zeigler snapped, gesturing her cup around and spilling the coffee on the pristine white carpet. “Shit.”

“Oh, yikes. Listen, Dr. Zeigler, I’ve been at the wrong end of that man’s temper before.” Sombra smiled. It was probably best to not be on this woman’s bad side. “I mean, I mention that blonde soldier one time and he absolutely lost it.”

Angela sighed, smiling half heartedly. She kept her gaze down at the mess on the carpet. “He didn’t used to get like that about Jack. They were… soulmates. In the most romantic way of the word. Closer than brothers. The spent the holidays together, shared dorm rooms… closer than close. There were rumors they were engaged. After the fall, there was no going back.”

“No kidding? Jeez. Gabe is like one of those Russian dolls.” Sombra flashed a wide grin, leaning forward. “Now, tell me, Dr. Zeigler. How does the face of modern medicine end up buddy-buddy with with Talon’s second favorite murderer?”

“What’s your name? Gabe did not say.”

“Somra. I know it’s not an actual name, not like yours, but it’s all anyone is going to get.”

“Why aren’t you with Talon, right now, getting treat by them?”

“I am two steps from making enemies of my employers, Dr. Zeigler. I messed up. Better safe than sorry.”

“Fine. I will tell you. No lost-love between me and Talon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank panzerkunstt for letting me use dialogue from an amazing comic that definitely didn't make me cry. Check out their blog and the comic I based the opening scene on!
> 
> http://panzerkunstt.tumblr.com/post/156073683524/god-geez-ok-im-not-doing-any-more-with-this-i
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! If you follow Driftwood, I will be updating it in a few days (hopefully). Feedback is always wanted!!


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